


Dwelling on Dreams

by Rhysanoodle



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Angst, Confessions, F/M, Fluff, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-13
Updated: 2019-12-13
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:40:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21776914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhysanoodle/pseuds/Rhysanoodle
Summary: My piece for Day 5 of ACOTAR AU Week over on Tumblr: Hogwarts AU! This piece may be my favorite I’ve written for this week ... so much so that I’m considering writing more in this AU!
Relationships: Elain Archeron/Azriel
Comments: 5
Kudos: 57
Collections: ACOTAR AU Week, ACOTAR AU Week Day 5





	Dwelling on Dreams

It had started before the Sorting Ceremony, whatever strange thing had been building between Elain and Azriel. **  
**

She had stumbled on her way down the corridor, as she searched for the car occupied by Nesta and her friends. Her journal had gone flying out of her arms and landed in an errant compartment. The small boy, shadows given flesh pooling underneath his eyes, had picked it up and handed it back to her with nary a word, being recalled by a boisterous voice from within.

Elain had gone on in a haze before finding her destination, sitting mutely as her third-year sister and their friends all gossiped about friends Elain had only heard of in passing. Nesta was remiss to share much of her life at Hogwarts with Elain.

Coming from what Elain had been told was a “muggle” house, Nesta had been thrilled to find out she was a witch when she was only eleven years old. She had naturally kept much of this close to her chest, wanting to protect her sisters in case it turned out they didn’t have the gift.

When she got to Hogwarts, Elain was unpleasantly surprised to find that first years were being separated out and she was being forced in another direction from Nesta. 

“You’ll be fine. Quit sulking. It’s not like we were going to be in the same house anyway,” Nesta chided her.

Elain meekly shuffled toward the enormous man heralding them toward the docks of a lake, shimmering beneath the stars. As she got into the boat, she noticed the boy next to her was the same one she’d run into on the train. 

“Hi, I’m Elain,” she murmured quietly, taking a moment to get a better look at him. He had hazel eyes peeking out from beneath a mop of shiny black hair and light brown skin. He was a quiet kind of cute. “Thanks for giving me back my journal.”

“I’m Azriel,” the boy informed her. “And it was no big deal.”

“Where are your friends?” Elain asked, inquiring after the voices she’d heard coming from inside his compartment.

“I just have one here,” Azriel offered. “Well, he’s more like a big brother. We grew up together after our parents died in the war.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Elain didn’t know which war he was speaking of, but she knew what it was like to lose a parent. Her mum had passed only a few years ago, and her heart still ached everyday at the memories of watching her fade away in that sickbed.

The boats began to glide of their own accord, and Elain jolted, realizing only too late that she had reached out for Azriel’s hand in her panic. 

In the dark, she could feel how rough and pockmarked it was. He didn’t seem to mind though, so she held it the whole way to the castle, delighting in the beauty of watching the behemoth slowly grow larger until they were already landing on the opposite shore and getting sorted by their names. Unfortunately for Elain, this meant she was first in line, and she was left to wait it out with the stern, bespectacled lady who had introduced herself as Professor McGonagall.

When they entered the enormous double doors leading into the Great Hall, Elain couldn’t help the little “o” she formed with her mouth as she took in the expanse of the hall—the four grandiose tables which stretched the length of the room, the dais at the front where all her future teachers stared back at them, floating candles and the night sky reflected on the moving ceiling. So this was magic. It was incredible.

Professor Dumbledore addressed the Great Hall and pulled out a beaten up hat which caused Elain to jump when it broke out into song. 

As soon as it was finished, she heard, as if from another body her name being called and felt her legs carry her through an entire room of witches and wizards staring her down.  


As soon as the hat was set upon her head, she could hear it whispering in her ear. _Ahh yes. What have we here? Great desire to make friends and no shortage of awe. Loyalty. Yes. I know just what to do with you …_

“Hufflepuff!” it roared to the larger crowd and a table full of students in yellow and black scarves stood up and cheered raucously, as she was ushered over.

The rest of the night flew by as she slowly accrued a section of other first year Hufflepuffs next to her and watched her friend from the train get sorted into Ravenclaw—the table wearing blue and bronze.

The last boy to be sorted was a red-haired Hufflepuff who came over and sat directly next to Elain. “Hi, I’m Lucien, but you can call me Luc,” he told her brightly, even though she’d heard his name called out only a minute before.

“Elain,” she reciprocated. “This is all so … crazy,” she breathed the next minute.

“Not from a family of wizards?” he asked. “I’ve got six older brothers, and none of them shut up so I’ve heard a bit about it. Though they did tell me that sorting would be much more painful than it actually was.”

“Just my older sister, but she didn’t tell me much at all. I think she didn’t want to ruin the surprise or make my baby sister feel bad if … well, if she isn’t a witch too.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll show you the ropes,” he offered. Elain couldn’t help the smile of gratitude which formed at his words.

“I’d like that.”

Just like that she’d made two new friends.

* * *

“It’s not like like that, Elain. I’ve heard my parents were awful, yes, but I’m nothing like them. I’m not even a Slytherin. Not that it’d be a bad thing if I _were_ ,” Azriel argued. Tam and Luc had prepared her for the fact that he would likely push back, but it was for the best, they said.

“I just …” How did she say this without hurting his feelings? “I’m just trying to fit in.”

“Have you ever considered that they aren’t really your friends?” Azriel asked her.

No, she hadn’t. Lucien had been so friendly these past few days, and on their first day of classes, he’d introduced her to his best friend Tam, who was a Gryffindor. The three of them had been thick as thieves all week.

It was only the other day at lunch, after Azriel had come up to talk to Elain that Tam had sneered and told her that he was bad news. Apparently his parents had been something called Death Eaters, and good riddance that they had managed to be killed in the war. He’d been informally adopted by a known sympathizer and raised that way. _Clearly_ , it had been some sort of fluke that he and another student in the same situation, Cassian, hadn’t been Slytherins by default.

“They’re my friends, Azriel.”

“Fine, Elain. If that’s the way you want it, then I won’t bother you anymore.” The boy ducked his head and took off down the corridor. Elain wanted to follow him. She had seen the glimmer of tears forming in his eyes, but she was already making her way up to the end of the corridor where Tam and Luc were waiting for her.

“Great show.” Tam clapped her on the back, and Lucien smiled apologetically at her before the three of them made their way to the Great Hall for lunch.

* * *

“Just ask him,” Nesta scolded Elain. “Who cares if you two didn’t get off on the best foot. He’s the best in your year at Potions. You need the help.”

“He has to hate me after I ditched him for Tam and Luc though.”

“Then make it up to him! Tell him you’re _sorry_ , Elain. Sheesh, I didn’t think I’d have to be the one telling you how to make friends,” Nesta shot back. “Suck it up little sister, or else you have no hope of getting your grades up.”

This had caused Elain to stay behind after the last potions lecture, feigning the fact that she had left one of her books in the room so her friends would take off without her. While they did passably in Potions, they were piss poor at explaining it to her, and something about the class had never clicked for Elain.

She could bring all the beautifully grown plants from Herbology she wanted, and still every potion she’d turned out this year had been a sludgy, grey mess.

Azriel _was_ the best at potion in their year, and apparently Nesta’s “friend” Cassian had already talked him up, yet Elain couldn’t let go of the hurt she’d seen the last time they’d spoken. 

True to his word, Azriel _hadn’t_ spoken to her in the three years since. He was always there, in the many blocks of classes they shared, but he floated around like a shadow, never quite getting near enough to Elain for them to ever need to interact.

Now, she paced outside the dungeon room door for him to emerge.

When he peeked out the door and saw her, he made to scuttle off down the hallway, but Elain halted him in his tracks with a tentative, “Azriel, wait.”

When he made no move to run away from her, Elain approached. “Umm, can I help you carry something? His bag was bulging open, and he had an enormous stack of books also held in his arms.

“You can’t do anything for me, Elain.” He made to move off down the empty hallway, but Elain called out to him.

“Please. I’m sorry about what I said all those years ago, but I could … I could really use some help in potions.”

He stopped and glared back over his shoulder. “I’m sure you could. Lots of people could,” he stated matter-of-factly.

“I need your _help_ , Azriel. You’re the best in our year, and I could try to make it up to you,” she offered.

“I’m listening.” Still his feet hadn’t stopped moving.

“I could talk to Tam and Luc and tell them they’re wrong. I could—”

“Not interested.”

Elain sighed. “I could help you in Herbology. Sprout trusts me, and I could get you access to certain ingredients which Snape doesn’t offer you.” _That_ stopped him in his tracks. She’d hoped he wouldn’t have needed so much convincing because it just meant _more_ time they’d have to spend together plus having to filch things from the greenhouse, but she’d just have to put up with that.

“Like what?”

“She’s been training me on some of the fifth year plants to help get me ahead on my O.W.L.s, and I have a key to the greenhouse. I could get you just about anything, I suppose.” She shrugged.

“Meet me down here tomorrow at seven. Bring me a mix of ingredients. We’ll see what I can do for you.”

* * *

Now in their sixth year, Elain and Azriel had made something of a ritual of their weekly study sessions. Every Thursday evening, they’d convene down in the Potions room, having snuck away from their other friends to spend hours whiling away at their work. They’d both seen improvements in Potions and Herbology, respectively, and by putting their heads together, they’d managed to brew some of Snape’s seventh year N.E.W.T recipes already.

Outside of these moments, they still rarely saw each other though. Azriel was usually found with his “brothers” Cassian and Rhys who seemed to hold a grudge against Tam and Luc and were now friends with Feyre as well. These solitary moments were the only times the two of them set aside their differences and actually talked.

But Azriel was a wonderful listener, and quite funny as well. For years, Elain had pinned him as an outsider who didn’t really understand anyone enough to have many friends. Turns out it was just the opposite. Azriel was incredibly picky with who he selected to open up to, and as he seemed to blend into most rooms he was in, he was a vault of secrets that others uttered in his presence, not even noticing he was around.

There were things he never opened up to her about—like how he got the burn scars on his hands or what his life had been like before he’d gone to live with his brothers—yet Elain had gotten to know him incredibly well in the past two years.

It was for this reason that she didn’t feel as terrible about staying at Hogwarts over the Winter Holiday.

Her father had passed away this fall, and she just couldn’t face a Christmas in that house without him. Not yet. Feyre had been upset when Elain had told her fifteen-year-old sister that she wouldn’t be going home. Yet Feyre had felt a sense of duty which had never quite been in Elain’s blood, and she couldn’t quite put that above the sense of anguish she knew she’d feel if she went home and found it devoid of any semblance of life.

All her other friends were also visiting family, though Luc had offered to stay with her. She had turned him down, as things had grown … awkward between them these past few months. He’d kissed her when she’d returned from the funeral, and they’d tried to make things work to no avail. 

She’d asked if they could just stay friends after only three weeks, and he’d reluctantly agreed. But Elain needed a couple of weeks away from the longing she sometimes saw reflected in his russet eyes whenever he hadn't noticed her looking at him.

Azriel always stayed for whichever holidays he could. Though his brothers fluctuated between going home and staying, he always felt like he’d be imposing and used the time to catch up on schoolwork.

Now, standing at the entrance to the Great Hall, she found herself walking over to the sparse Ravenclaw table and taking up a seat next to him. “Is this seat taken?” she asked, though they were already shoulder-to-shoulder.

“Defecting from Hufflepuff so easily, Archeron?” he shot back, and a thrill went through Elain at the way he said her name.

“I think all your knowledge is rubbing off on me.” She shrugged as she grabbed a sandwich off the platter in the middle and took an enormous bite out of it.

“Slow down,” Azriel cautioned. “You don’t need to prove yourself to anyone. You’re welcome here anytime.”

That began a pattern of Elain finding Azriel at breakfast every morning and the two of them finding ways to pass the time together. Usually they went to the Ravenclaw Common Room, since it was where Azriel was most comfortable, but they also explored the grounds together.

On Christmas Eve, he took her up to the astronomy tower, bottle of firewhisky in hand. It hadn’t snowed for a few days now, and when Azriel led her up a ladder and onto the flattened roof which housed a large telescope, there was enough clear space for him to lay out a blanket and pull Elain to the ground with him.

“Have you ever just looked at the stars?” he asked her.

“No …” she breathed. She hadn’t even known this was here or that it was possible to sneak up here after hours to look at them.

“Sometimes I come up here when I need some peace and quiet. It’s nice to just know that there’s so much else out there.”

“And they’re beautiful,” Elain pitched in, still in awe of the view.

“So are you,” Azriel murmured, and Elain turned to find him staring not at the stars but at her face. “So beautiful.” When Elain found herself mute, he lifted a scarred hand and threaded it through her hair, pulling her into him until she was half on top of him and their mouths had collided.

It was a soft thing which had ended practically as soon as it began, much to Elain’s dismay, which shocked her.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.” His breath fogged in the minute space between them.

“How long?” Elain questioned.

“Since the moment I met you. I hated myself for it for years, watching you traipse around with Lucien and Tamlin after you rejected me to my face. But I couldn’t stop thinking about you. When you came to me for help in Potions, I tried so hard to ward you off, but you offered me something else beside your company which I couldn’t refuse. These last two years have been agony of having you _sometimes_ but still feeling like an outsider when I saw you otherwise. But you were the only one who’s held my hand and not immediately shied away from me for how awful they are.”

Elain took one of his hands in her own. “Why would anyone care about the scars on your hands? They’re fascinating,” she murmured.

“Everyone judges me, calls me broken before even getting to know me. I had a few days with you before your friends told you to do the same. I got these from my real brothers when I was younger. They’re much older than me, and when I was young, they used to mess with me. When I was only five, they pulled out their wands and one of them froze me in place while the others shot licks of fire at my hands. By the time anyone found me, it was too late for the healers to fix them completely.” Elain’s heart was breaking, tears streaking down her face.

“I was six when they and my parents were killed in the service of He Who Must Not Be Named. I got taken to live with Rhys’s parents along with Cass, who had already been there for awhile. That’s … how I got here.” He shrugged as if he hadn’t just laid himself bare to her.

“And I just let those boys convince me you weren’t a good friend …” Elain’s crying had picked up now as she realized the depths to which she had likely wounded him.

“Hey, it’s not your fault. We were so young then. I could have fought for you, but I didn’t. I hadn’t learned how to stand up for myself yet. I hadn’t figured out that maybe not all of me was a complete mess. Since we’ve become friends, I’ve been … working through that. I’m finally ready to let you know that I want you, El. I need you so damn much.” He was wiping away her tears now with his calloused thumbs and looking in her eyes, questioning.

“I think I need you too Az,” she whispered before pressing a featherlight kiss to his lips. What started delicate blossomed until they were a mess of heavy breathing, teeth and tongue, hands running wildly through each other’s hair.

When they came up for air, Elain was shivering from loss of contact and anticipation. Azriel sat up, pulling her into his chest and handing her the bottle to take a swig. 

As the alcohol burned the back of her throat, she took another sip, her cheeks flushing with warmth. Azriel pried the bottle from her fingertips and took a few swigs of his own.

“I can’t believe I finally had the guts to tell you,” he admitted in her ear.

“I’m glad you did,” she told him truthfully. “I’m sorry it took me so long to finally realize how amazing you are.”

“I’m just happy to have you now,” Azriel murmured, placing a kiss to her ear. “Merry Christmas, El.”

“Merry Christmas, Az,” she parrotted, tucking further into his chest and fixing her gaze on the stars.


End file.
